Had Marie underlined them—and if so, why? They did not convey a tremendous deal to Chris, though he had a faintly uncomfortable feeling that they might to a woman.
63 Marie was not twenty-five either, she was only nineteen! And anyway it was absurd to imagine that she was finding the world bitter when she had just written home to Aunt Madge that she was quite happy.
He had still got the book in his hand when the door opened and Marie came in. She caught her breath when she saw her husband.
"You, Chris!"
"Yes, I thought you were in." He turned round, holding out the book. "Are you reading this?"
"Yes." She tried to take it from him, but he avoided her. "Did you underline that verse?"
He saw the color flicker into her face, but she laughed as she bent over the book and read the words he indicated.
"Did I? Of course not. It's a pretty poem. It's Tennyson's 'Maud,' you know." Chris knew nothing about Tennyson's "Maud," but he was relieved to hear the natural way in which his wife spoke. He shut the book and threw it down carelessly.
"I came to say that I'm sorry about last night—about forgetting to take you out, I mean. I clean forgot all about it. We'll go to- night, shall we?" There was the smallest hesitation before she answered. She was taking off her hat at the wardrobe so he could not see her face.
"Mr. Dakers has two tickets for a concert," she said at last, "I almost promised him I would go." She waited. "If you don't mind," she added.